


A Broken Man

by lockedin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Bottom Sherlock, Chastity Device, Comfort Sex, Dark John, Dark John Watson, Dom John, Dom John Watson, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Sherlock, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Milking, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Orgasm Denial, Post-Reichenbach, Sub Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You do something for me John can never do.” Sherlock pressed his palm against Julian’s cheek. “You show me I can still be loved.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broken Man

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, the Johnlock action is only a small part of this fic. Also, _John is the abusive one and Sherlock is the abused._ This is predominantly an Anderlock fic.
> 
> I'm staying with Julian for Anderson's first name because I like it. This fic is unrelated to my other Anderlock fic, though. He's just going to be Julian in all my Anderlock fics until we get his actual first name.
> 
> So this is super dark for me. Result of brainstorming with [francesksgk](http://francesksgk.tumblr.com). So yeah, blame her.

John had texted Sherlock far enough in advance that, by the time John stopped in at Baker Street, Sherlock was waiting on the bed, stripped, arse plugged, cock caged, and a length of rope at his side. John hung his coat on the back of the bedroom door and kicked off his shoes. He picked up the rope, and Sherlock held out his wrists. John wound the rope around each and then bound them tightly together.

He opened his trousers and pulled out his cock, presenting it to Sherlock. A cock ring hung loose behind the scrotum. Sherlock shuffled on toward the edge of the bed, bracing himself forward unsteadily on his bound hands, and opened his mouth. John gripped his curls and shoved his prick between Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock worked his lips and tongue on John’s cock until John deemed it was sufficiently hard and told him to stop. Sherlock tightened his lips into as close to a circle as he could and John fucked his mouth until he was completely erect.

When John pulled out of Sherlock’s mouth, Sherlock immediately shifted around while John fished a condom out of the nightstand. John told him down, and Sherlock stretched his arms in front of him on the bed and settled his head and shoulders uncomfortably on the mattress.

“I had a shitty day,” John said. “So you’ll get three.”

Sherlock took a steadying breath. John removed the plug and replaced it with his cock. He never took time building a rhythm, or at least he hadn’t in years. He started hard and fast and only built up from there. With one hand on Sherlock’s hip, he took hold once more of Sherlock’s curls and pulled back.

He expected it. He always expected it. He could never keep himself from crying out, though, at the initial pull as John fucked him.

“One,” John said as he drove into Sherlock, twisting his fingers into Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock bit his lip and buried his face into the sheets. He counted each strike to his prostate, his trapped prick unable to react. Sometimes counting helped; today it didn’t, especially with John holding back. A whimper escaped his lips. No amount of burying his mouth in the sheets kept the sound from John’s keen ears.

“Two.”

John let go of Sherlock’s hair and moved it to his other hip. He hammered into Sherlock with bruising force, angling their bodies so he struck Sherlock’s prostate fiercely with each and every thrust. It was only another few seconds before Sherlock unwillingly released a broken moan.

“Three.”

John pulled out and flipped Sherlock onto his back. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips again and lifted them, ramming Sherlock onto his cock more than putting it back in.

“You’re so fucking pitiful,” John growled as he instantly resumed his briefly interrupted pace. “You don’t even know how to stay shut up. That’s your problem. You can’t help but make noise. You have to make a show of fucking everything.”

Despite his count being up, Sherlock tried desperately to keep quiet, but John was tearing shattered cries from his throat.

“Look at me, you bastard.”

Sherlock forced his eyes open, looking at John through the water pooling over his eyes and trickling over onto his face and down into his ears.

“Even when you were dead, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You had to show off, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?”

Sherlock gave a shaky nod as John slammed into him. His prostate was giving way, and soon semen began to drip from his caged, flaccid cock.

“Look at that: even the great Sherlock bloody Holmes is human. His piss is piss, his shit is shit, and his come is come.”

John fucked him in silence through the rest, until Sherlock stopped dripping. By then, Sherlock’s muscles were so exhausted that his entire body jostled like a ragdoll with John’s unrelenting pace.

When Sherlock had been milked dry, John told him to make him come. With what little energy he had left, Sherlock tightened his arse around John’s cock, sobbing quietly at the increased pressure against his prostate that came with ever thrust.

John came at last, and Sherlock went completely slack once he did. “Fucking pitiful,” John muttered as he leaned over Sherlock and loosed the knot in the rope. He tossed his condom in the rubbish bin behind the door and tucked his cock back in his pants, leaving the ring where it was. He did up his trousers, pulled on his shoes, grabbed his jacket from the back of the door, and walked out without another word. A moment later, the door to the flat slammed shut.

* * *

Julian had trouble wrapping his head around it, to say the least. He sat in Sherlock’s bed, leaning back against the headboard, Sherlock’s head in his lap. “The things he does to you,” Julian muttered as he brushed his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.

“I like it,” Sherlock told him. It wasn’t the first time he had told him either.

“He treats you like dirt.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Really? Then explain this.” Julian reached down and picked up Sherlock’s arm, indicating the bright red marks around his wrists.

“It’s called a kink, Jules.”

“I know what a kink is, Sherlock. This is abuse.”

“It’s not. I consent, fully and happily.”

“Happily? How can it make you happy?”

Sherlock pulled his arm away and caught Julian’s hand in his. “It brings me down to earth.”

Julian sighed. “I’m trying to understand, I am.”

“Before I met John, before I faked my death for him, what was I like?”

“A bastard, which you still are sometimes.”

Sherlock smiled and twined his fingers between Julian’s. “I don’t lord it over everyone as much, though.”

“You do, but only to strangers.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “The point is, John humanises me. He reminds me that my mind isn’t everything.”

Julian squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “It’s enough for me.”

“No, it’s not. Before Bart’s, I didn’t look twice at you, not this way. After Bart’s, after everything John’s shown me about myself and about people, I saw you in a different light.”

“You’re saying I have to thank John for treating you like-”

“Jules.”

“I can’t like it, Sherlock. I can’t look at you—I can’t see what he does to you and be okay with it. You would never ask me to do to you what he does.”

“I don’t want you to. I don’t need you to.”

“You don’t need me at all, though, do you?”

Sherlock sat up and turned around. “Of course I do.”

“To what, patch you up?” Julian scowled.

“You do something for me John can never do.” Sherlock pressed his palm against Julian’s cheek. “You show me I can still be loved.”

Julian gripped Sherlock’s hand. “Why are you still with him if he doesn’t love you?”

“Because I love him, and we still need each other. And he’s good for me.”

“I’m good for you,” Julian pressed.

“You are, just in different ways.” Sherlock leant forward and kissed Julian softly. “John proved I could love someone; you proved someone could love me back.”

Julian closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s. “I wish you’d leave him. I wish to god you’d leave him.”

“Maybe someday, when I can remember on my own how to be a proper human being.”

“Sod that.” Julian opened his eyes and looked fiercely at Sherlock. “I don’t want a proper human being—I want you.”

“You wouldn’t want me if I went back to how I used to be.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. Why can’t you believe in us, that we can do this ourselves?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of faith in myself.”

“I do. I have faith in you. Isn’t that enough?”

“It might be, but what if it’s not? What if-”

“Stop. Stop making excuses.” Julian cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck. “You said I showed you that you can be loved. That won’t go away. That can never go away. You’d have to delete our time together in that bloody, brilliant head of yours for you to completely backtrack from that.” He closed his eyes again and took a steadying breath. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard. I’m not saying there won’t be some backlash. I’m saying we can do it regardless.”

After a quiet minute between them, Sherlock murmured, “How can you have so much faith in me?”

“Because you’re brilliant and amazing and I’m an idiot.” Julian smiled and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “Mostly because I love you. Maybe it did take John to ‘humanise’ you—whatever the hell that means—and maybe a more human you was what I needed to fall in love, but I admired you long before John Watson was ever in the picture.”

Sherlock’s eyes closed and he took a ragged breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re going to get me anyway.”

Sherlock crushed his mouth against Julian’s, kissing him fiercely and pressing him back against the headboard.

Julian pushed against Sherlock’s shoulders and gasped when their lips came apart. “Let a man breathe.”

“Fuck me.”

Julian blinked. Sherlock gazed at him steadily, though his eyes were wet. Julian stroked his cheek. “Sherlock-”

Sherlock began undoing his trousers.

Julian snatched his hands and pushed them away. “Sherlock, stop it.”

“I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me, Julian.”

“What you need is some rest.”

“No. I need you to show me.”

Julian frowned. “Show you what?”

Sherlock shuddered. His shoulders slumped and his head hung.

Julian lifted his chin. “Show you what, Sherlock?”

“Show me how to be loved.”

Julian’s chest felt more hollow than it had all evening. “Sherlock, you don’t need to be fucked to be loved.”

“I—I don’t know how else-” Sherlock choked on the rest of his words. He was trembling.

Julian gathered Sherlock up and cradled him against his chest. “Christ. I didn’t realise—there’s so much more to being loved.” Julian buried his face in Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock cried quietly into his jumper. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I had no idea.”

“Please, Jules,” Sherlock sobbed. “I need—I need to feel-”

“Not now, not like this.” Julian tightened his arms around Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up, sharp cheeks softened with tears, eyes raw. “I can still feel him. Inside me, I can still feel him.”

“Sherlock-”

Sherlock curled his fingers in Julian’s jumper. “I don’t want to feel him anymore. Ever.”

Julian pulled Sherlock’s head to his chest and pressed a kiss into his curls.

“It’s not love, is it?” Sherlock muttered. “What I feel for John. I thought it was. I knew it was different, from what I feel for you, but I still thought it was. It’s not, though, is it?”

Julian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back his own tears. “No, I don’t think it is.”

“How do I know? How do I know what it’s supposed to feel like?” Sherlock shook in Julian’s arms. “How do I know it’s what I feel for you?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I did.”

Sherlock lifted his head again. “Julian.”

He wiped Sherlock’s wet cheek.

“Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It feels like I’m taking advantage of you. Quite frankly, it feels like that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time, without even realising it.”

“It’s not. I swear, it’s not.”

Julian shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

Sherlock cupped Julian’s face in his hands. “Listen to me. I’m not sure anymore if what I feel toward you is really love. What I am sure of is, with John no longer in the picture, I still want you. All I want is you, Julian. I want you inside me, I want you to hold me, I want you to take away the feeling of him. I want to feel only you.”

Julian covered one of Sherlock’s hands. Finally, he nodded. “Only for tonight. Tomorrow, we’re going to sit down and sort this out with clearer heads.”

Sherlock kissed him, far more chastely this time. “Promise.”

Even in the past, Julian didn’t like taking Sherlock on the days John came around. Tonight was different, though. Tonight, things changed. He believed it, maybe because he had to believe it—believe Sherlock’s life was going to get better.

As soon as they had done away with Julian’s clothes, Sherlock put his mouth to work on Julian’s cock. Julian stroked Sherlock’s hair as he grew hard under the ministrations of Sherlock’s lips, tongue, and even a little teeth. He let Sherlock go as long as he pleased, feeling anything but hurried to penetrate him. When he let Sherlock know he was close, though, he immediately backed off.

Without a single touch, Sherlock had become completely hard, perhaps embarrassingly so all things considered. Julian didn’t say anything, though he was certain Sherlock read his concern clearly.

Julian retrieved the lube and a condom from the nightstand. He moved as gradually as he dared, hoping along the way that Sherlock would change his mind. When he turned back to Sherlock, though, he found the other man on his back, knees up and thighs spread. His arse was as red as his wrists, and still absurdly loose. Julian rolled on the condom and slicked himself up. Before he put his cock in Sherlock, though, he made sure, with a gentle touch, that Sherlock really was still open enough and plenty lubed.

“Julian,” Sherlock breathed.

He forced back a frown. He pushed into Sherlock as slowly as possible. There was an obvious wince when his cock pressed against Sherlock’s prostate that had nothing to do with pleasure. “Sherlock-”

“It won’t take me long.” Sherlock was already panting. “I just need to feel you. Please.”

Julian moved gradually, making sure to rub Sherlock’s prostate with his cock rather than hit it. He rubbed his thumb up the inside of Sherlock’s thigh. With his other hand, he stroked Sherlock’s cock. When Sherlock came, it was with a forcibly subdued cry and little ejaculation. Julian immediately took his prick out of Sherlock and pulled himself off.

He did away with his condom and went quickly back to Sherlock’s side. He scooped him under the sheets and hugged him close. Sherlock seemed to curl into Julian as much as he curled in on himself.

“Whatever happens,” Julian whispered, his lips brushing against Sherlock’s ear. “Whatever you decide, whether you figure out that you love me or you don’t, I’m going to help you through this. I promise.” He kissed Sherlock’s temple and held him tight, staying away long after Sherlock drifted off.


End file.
